


Mother of the Groom

by Sophia_Prester



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff and Angst, Humor, M/M, Mommy Issues, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:09:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27082459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Prester/pseuds/Sophia_Prester
Summary: The second time Jack and Bitty go to Madison for the Fourth of July, they’re not going secretly as boyfriends, but openly as fiancés. They haven’t even thought about wedding planning just yet (okay, fine, Bitty has multiple Pinterest boards set up already), but that all changes when Bitty leaves the party preparations in tears and Jack makes a decision that ends up tearing open some old wounds.Of course, not all tears are tears of sorrow, and some old wounds need to be re-opened so they can finally heal.
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 77
Kudos: 192





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this story has been percolating in the back of my mind for a while, starting with [this rather sad headcanon](https://missweber.tumblr.com/post/162479546512/zimbits-wedding-headcanon). Of course, in the notes, people put a much happier spin on things and thus a plot bunny was born.

“So, how’s Georgia?” Maman asked once Jack explained that he wasn’t calling for any other reason than he had a free moment to talk, and he had promised her he would call when he did.

Jack shrugged. “Fine, I guess. She’s back up in Providence, so…” He didn’t bother to hide his grin, since she couldn’t see it.

As expected, Maman sighed.

“How is the _state of Georgia_ , as in the physical state, the… What number was it or was it even one of the original thirteen colonies, I can’t for the life of me remember… Oh, you know what I mean, you horrible child!”

Jack laughed, taking the insult for the affectionate teasing it was. “It’s good.” He looked out the window. “It’s hot.”

From the bedroom, he had an excellent view of Bitty in his short shorts and tight tank top. He was directing various chair-and-table-toting Bittles and Phelpses around the yard like a tiny field marshal.

“Humid, too. I was helping set up, but Bits said I looked like was getting overheated and sent me inside. I did _not_ put up a fuss. I’m up in Bits’s room, enjoying the AC.”

And the view. He loved watching Bitty boss larger people around.

Bitty wasn’t the only one doing the bossing. Judy’s theater of operations was the streamers and bunting, and Suzanne’s was the food tables. When Jack was down there showing off for Bitty by hauling tables around by himself, Moomaw had served as commanding general of the whole thing. She oversaw operations from the shade of a large magnolia tree while Connie kept her glass of sweet tea topped off and occasionally jogged off to relay mission-critical orders to the troops.

Now, though, Moomaw had joined Bitty, Judy, and Bitty over by the dessert table. Whatever she was saying had their attention enough they let new arrivals put their food offerings down any old way instead of according to plan.

“So yeah, things are good. I think there’s even more food here than last year, which I didn’t think was possible.”

“Mmm-hmm?”

It took deliberate effort not to react. That pointed _mmh-hmm_ meant he had missed some sort of cue—whatever it was. That sort of prompting was an old habit of Maman’s, one that she’d been working on for the past eight years to break. Jack considered it a victory that he only felt a tiny flicker of anxiety about whatever unspoken expectation he’d failed to meet and none about simply asking:

“What is it you really want to know, Maman?”

“Sorry, sorry! I’m a bit distracted by something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about—I promise it’s nothing horrible. It can wait.” He heard her shut her laptop with theatrical emphasis. “What I really want to know is, how are the Bittles? Not just their health and so on, but how are they with _you?_ And with Bitty? I know they were okay, well, _mostly_ okay at Christmas, but now that he’s bringing you home as his fiancé, are they being good to you? _Both_ of you?”

“So far, I think?” At Christmas, the only sign of family rebellion against Moomaw’s edict that she wouldn’t tolerate any hateful nonsense about her precious Dicky and his delightful boyfriend _or any talk about the ‘sanctity of marriage,’ especially from people who’ve gone through three husbands in eight years, Samantha Jane_ was that Connie’s husband had refused to attend. The general consensus amongst the family was that this was no great loss. The fact that Connie and her daughters and their families were here for the Fourth and the husband hadn’t even been invited said volumes. “Everyone’s been friendly enough so far, and no one’s pretending not to see us.”

If anything, Bitty had at been unsettled at first by the amount of positive attention he was getting from his extended family.

 _It’s probably only because I captained a championship team and had to rough someone up to do it,_ Bits had said morosely last night _. That way, they can pretend I’m a ‘real’ man for a little bit._

As far as Jack could tell, Bitty was fine about it today. Maybe.

“Jacky? Are you okay? You got awfully quiet, there.”

“ _Ouais_ , I’m fine. Just…”

Just wishing that Suzanne and Moomaw and Coach had done or said something so that Bitty wouldn’t have been so afraid to be himself for so long.

“I guess I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. We’ve only been here a day. But it’s good,” he hurried to reassure her. “I was having fun before I nearly got heat stroke. Also, now that we’re engaged, Suzanne finally agreed that Bits and I can stay in the same room.”

He couldn’t help rolling his eyes at that last bit.

“How generous of her,” Maman said dryly. “But things are really okay?”

Jack elected not to be annoyed at being double-checked. It was completely understandable that she would be concerned.

“Okay enough that some of Bits’ cousins have decided we’re playing ball hockey this afternoon.” In fact, Coach and some Bittle cousin whose name Jack couldn’t remember had gone off to take advantage of Coach’s spare keys to borrow some supplies from the school PE storage shed.

“Good, good… Anyhow, since I have you on the phone, I’ve been meaning to ask if you and Bitty have decided anything about how soon you want to get married, or how many guests you plan to invite.”

A keyboard clattered rapidly on the other side of the line—Maman must have re-opened her laptop shortly after she closed it.

“Uh…”

“It’s just that for the kind of venue you’ll want, people book over a year in advance, easily. Also, have you decided yet if you’ll get married in Montreal or Providence? It will be easier for your father and I to coordinate if it’s in Montreal, of course, but more of your friends live closer to Providence, so that’s a consideration. Samwell also has some nice options, but they’re all so _small_. Or are the two of you thinking you may do a destination wedding?”

“Uh…”

There was a long pause, long enough for someone to silently count a few breaths, and then a rueful laugh.

“I am _so_ sorry, Jack. That was a lot to dump on you without warning, wasn’t it? It’s just been bubbling around in my mind so long that it came pouring out. So, _please_ forget I said anything and let me try again without the interrogation tactics. All I’m trying to say is that we need to start planning much further ahead than you probably imagine. Not just venues, but guest lists and save-the-dates. My own schedule through the end of next year is already _ridiculous_ —not that I’m not going to drop absolutely _everything_ for your wedding! I’m…”

She went quiet again, but Jack waited. Sometimes it took her a moment to find the right words when she wanted to be brief.

“I’m just glad to see you so _happy_.”

He heard everything that she didn’t say about the overdose, or about the year of excruciating family therapy that unearthed how deeply _un_ happy he had been for so, so long.

He heard all of the apologies for everything she had done over the years in the name of ‘gently encouraging’ him to do something about his weight, his hair, his clothes, his manners, his shyness… For not seeing until it was too late just how much damage both she and Papa had done in the name of good intentions.

“Je t’aime, maman.” He did not tell her it was okay, because they both knew it wasn’t. The important thing was, they had both moved forward—and continued to move forward—from it. They had learned and they had grown, even though they both had their moments. And he _was_ happy. Genuinely, truly happy. “Maybe when we get back to Providence, Bits and I can call you and Papa and we can start talking plans. That will give us a chance to— _Crisse_. I think I’m needed.”

Based on Bitty’s body language as he left the group of Phelps women, Jack had a sinking feeling it wasn’t for moving tables _._

“I’ll let you go then. But be _sure_ to let me know when you’re back in Providence so we can get started!”

Jack wasn’t sure if he actually said goodbye or not before hanging up. Bits was coming back towards the house in a controlled hurry, and the closer he got to the house the more shaken he looked.

 _Shit_. He may have been too quick to tell Maman that things were good.

He heard footsteps pounding up the stairs, and when he opened the bedroom door, he ended up with an armful of teary-eyed Bitty.

 _Someone is going to die_ , Jack thought, but he quickly dismissed the thought so he could focus on getting Bitty over to the bed. They sat down together on the edge of the bed, but Bitty didn’t sag against Jack the way Jack expected. Instead, he sheepishly waved away the offer of comfort.

“It’s okay, sweet-pea, it really is! Oh, I’m sure I look _such_ a mess, but I’m fine!” Bitty was trying to fan away his tears. He laughed but it came out more like a sob. “It’s just that—oh, _lord_!”

Jack rubbed (hopefully) calming circles on his fiancé’s back, and tried not to imagine the worst. Had Bits been ordered to stay away from his little cousins? Or had some of his older relatives threatened him?

“What is _wrong_ with me that I can’t pull myself together?”

Jack couldn’t answer that until he had some idea of what was going on. “What happened out there, bud?”

“Well, Mama and Judy started asking me about if we’d started planning anything for the wedding yet.” He had to pause and blink and take a deep breath.

Jack nodded and resisted the temptation to say something about Maman’s call.

“Anyway. So, we’re talking plans and so on, and Judy starts going on about how she and Uncle David are fixing up that big old barn on their farm—you know, out where we watched the fireworks—so they can rent it out for weddings and events and suchlike, and maybe even start some sort of catering business. I mean now that more and more people are _finally_ on board with the idea that plantations aren’t any kind of place to celebrate anything no matter how ‘elegant’ and ‘charming’ they are and… Ugh! I’m rambling.” He took another deep breath, steadied himself. “So, now that it’s far too late to make a long story short, we’re all talking about weddings, and Moomaw comes up and starts listening in.”

Jack barely had a chance to register a sense of dread before Bits went on with his story.

“Well, Mama and Judy are still going on and on about food the way they do, so it’s a little bit before Moomaw can even think of getting a word in edgewise—and don’t you dare laugh, mister!—and when she does, she says…”

Bits took a deep, shuddering breath, and Jack braced for a worst he couldn’t imagine.

_But Moomaw had been so kind to him! And Bits loves her so much! What on earth could she…_

“She says, ‘young man, don’t even _think_ that your Mama and your aunts and I are going to let you bake your own wedding cake!’”

That was when he broke down sobbing, face buried in the front of Jack’s shirt while Jack blinked in bemusement and wondered just what the hell had gotten itself lost in translation.

“Euh, I know you like to bake, bud, but this is extreme, even for you.”

Bitty sat back sharply and swatted Jack on the arm. “Oh, you! It’s not about that! Well, not just about that,” he added before Jack could say anything about Bitty’s three different Pinterest boards of wedding pie ideas and cake decorating tutorials.

Bitty took another breath before starting again. “So, Mama says ‘I don’t know when you and Jack are planning to get married or where, but when you do—” his voice broke “—your Moomaw and aunts and I want to bake your wedding cake.’”

The last bit of it came out garbled because Bitty was snuffling and blinking back tears through it all.

“Bud, I’m going to need your help here. What about this has you so upset?”

“I’m not upset!” Bitty said as he scrubbed away his tears with the collar of his shirt. “ _I’m getting a Phelps cake for my wedding!_ Just like any other Phelps bride! Not that I’m a bride, but you know what I mean! I mean...” He took another shuddering breath and patted his hand against the top of his sternum as if to put his heartbeat back in order. “It’s a Phelps tradition from way, way back. Every bride—or groom in my case, I suppose—gets a homemade cake, and when my cousin Samantha Jane got married for the third time and was told she would have to make do with a Publix cake, well, that said more about _that_ particular fiasco than you could put in a hundred pages.”

Jack nodded. He thought he was beginning to understand.

“My Mama. My family. Are going to make a wedding cake. For _me_. For _my wedding._ I never thought—”

Bitty covered his face with his hands and just shook for a while, Jack holding him close.

“I never thought I would have that! That I _could_ have that! And I’m so happy, so why can’t I stop crying? Ugh! I’m such an idiot!”

“It’s a _lot_ to take in, bud. And…”

And if Bitty’s parents had had their shit together years ago, Bitty and Suzanne could have been daydreaming about weddings long before now.

Jack knew more than he wanted to about mourning how things could or should have been, but this wasn’t the time to talk about that.

“Well, it’s a lot,” he finished weakly.

Bitty nodded. “Yeah,” he said, and he was starting to smile, just a little. “And as if _that_ wasn’t enough, Judy up and said that if we wanted to, we could use her place for the wedding and it would be her gift to us. I mean, not that we would or anything, but isn’t that something?”

“I’m glad, bud.” He thought for a moment. “I took some good pictures of that old barn when we were here two years ago.” There was one with a sunbeam pouring through the hayloft window that he was particularly fond of. In fact, he had to resist the temptation to get out his phone to look at it right then and there.

“Mmm. I remember. You were gettin’ all up in the late afternoon light and being all artsy when I was wanting to go back to the truck so we could make out.” He bumped Jack with his shoulder, teasing. “They’re good pictures.”

“I should probably send a couple to your aunt,” Jack mused. They might want some attractive ‘before’ pictures for their web site. He wondered what the place looked like now that it was getting fixed up. The place had ‘good bones,’ as Dex might say, with massive, angled rafters that reminded him of the vaults of a cathedral. They would look gorgeous cleaned up and draped with garlands of greenery and flowers, or wrapped in fairy lights. If the doors at the western end were open, it had a great view of the farm’s pond and the woods beyond. In fact…

“Why wouldn’t we?” he asked.

Bitty pulled back and blinked at him a few times, head tilted adorably. “Why wouldn’t we what, sweetpea?”

“Take your aunt up on her offer of using the barn for our wedding.”

Bitty’s eyes were as wide as Jack had ever seen them. “You mean get married _here_? In _Madison_? Are you joking?”

Jack shrugged. “It was just a thought.” Still, the idea of getting married where they had spent their first time together as a couple appealed to him more than he would have expected. “But if you don’t want to get married in Georgia—”

“I didn’t say that,” Bitty said quickly but oh-so-quietly. He laced his fingers through Jack’s. “Just, can we think about it some? I didn’t even think getting married at home or even having a proper Phelps wedding was even an option until just a few minutes ago, and I… oh, hell, I’m gonna start crying again!”

Jack sat with him for another minute, just long enough for Bitty to pull himself together, and then they went down to re-join the party. Once they were downstairs, Bitty hurried off to help his mother put the dessert table to rights, and Jack hung back in the shade of the house for a moment so he could look through the photos he kept on his phone for roadies.

They were all very intimate photos, but not the kind of intimate that would be of interest to a hacker. Still, they took his breath away as much as if not more than the photos he kept on a separate hard drive and far away from the internet.

He found the photo of the barn and sunbeam quickly enough. Even in a photograph, something about the air made the sun look like something you would want to pour into a glass and drink.

Bitty stood just on the fringes of the sunbeam, amber light gently brushing across his face and his shoulder and turning his hair into a halo of the warmest gold. His smile was glorious, caught at the moment when he had just noticed Jack standing there with the camera.

 _Oh, there you are!_ Bitty had exclaimed, startling away the _I love you_ that had nearly tumbled from Jack’s mouth. Yes, Jack remembered that barn very well indeed.

Before he could overthink it, he made the photo his lock screen and hurried off to join the others before Bitty could wonder where he’d gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't write a story talking about a possible Zimbits wedding in Madison without giving a HUGE shoutout to WrathoftheStag's delightful [My Big Fat Southern Wedding.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17342126/chapters/40801700) It's sweet and cracky and oh-so-worth the read.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get a little more into Bitty's thoughts about weddings, and Jack makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kind comments and the kudos! I'm having a lot of fun with this story.
> 
> In this chapter, Jack has to actively manage his anxiety in a couple of parts, and there's some allusion to a few family members who might be judgmental (but are keeping their damn mouths shut because Moomaw will not hesitate to shun anyone who speaks ill of her precious Dicky).
> 
> Dialogue bracketed by << >> indicates Jack and Alicia texting each other in French.

**_Maman: <<Your father said to make sure to get pictures of the hockey game and to please stop taunting him with photos of food he’s not there to enjoy>>_ **

_Me: <<ok>>_

**_Maman: <<Don’t forget to give Suzanne my number and my private email so we can start talking plans>>_ **

_Me: <<ok>>_

Jack set his phone to silent and tucked it into his back pocket. He had a sudden, sinking feeling that his short responses were far too curt, but he reminded himself firmly that Maman (probably) knew by now he didn’t mean them to be rude, much as he knew she (probably) didn’t mean her texts to feel like nagging. Maybe he should text back with something softer than _ok_ , but he’d waited long enough it would be weird and… _ugh!_

This was _not_ the time to get caught in an over-thinking spiral.

Fortunately Coach hollered for him to come over and help referee the ball hockey game, and the unexpected anxiety flare-up was soon forgotten in the chaos of trying to corral a bunch of kids who seemed to think a key part of the game was ‘who can get the most penalties for high-sticking and slashing.’

Despite or possibly because of the roughhousing, the game was a rousing success, with most of the kids saying it was way better than boring old croquet. Well, except for the part where you could send your opponents’ croquet balls into the poison ivy patch— _that_ part was fun. Anyhow, Jack felt inordinately smug that he may have started a new tradition in a family that collected traditions the way hockey players collected superstitions.

As requested, he sent a few pictures to Papa, being sure to ‘accidentally’ include a photo of the overflowing trays of pulled pork and smoked brisket one of Coach’s brothers had prepared.

Hockey was followed by flag football (of course—it was _traditional_ ), and football was followed by shooing the kids to the hose to wash their hands so they could eat. The dinner offerings were just as good as Jack remembered from two years ago. In some ways, they were even better, because he knew to pace himself, and he no longer had to learn the hard way which potato salad was made with Miracle Whip and sweet pickles instead of mayonnaise and celery.

Best of all, he no longer had to resist if he felt the urge to reach out and put his hand on the small of Bitty’s back, and Bitty didn’t hesitate to rise up on tip-toe to kiss Jack on the cheek before going to help Moomaw to her seat. A few people gave double-takes or narrowed their eyes at the public displays of affection, but they mostly shrugged it off and said hello before moving on.

Only two people seemed to be staring at them when they thought Jack wasn’t looking. One was a cousin on Coach’s side of the family, a budding star quarterback of about fifteen. It wasn’t angry staring, though. It was the kind of hesitant wistfulness that had Jack placing a mental bet that in less than a year the kid would be calling Bitty to ask about Samwell and about talking to your parents about important stuff and about being true to yourself.

The other person was Suzanne. Her staring was much harder to interpret.

But, when she realized Jack had caught her looking at him, she didn’t look away. She just blushed and hurried over to haul him down into a crushing hug. “I’m sorry, Jack! I know I’m gawking like an idiot, but I’m just so grateful you and Dicky were able to come here this year! I missed him _so much_ last summer, you have no idea.”

Jack returned the hug before pulling away for the sake of his back. Suzanne was wearing flats. “Thank you for inviting me back.”

She swatted at him playfully. “Of course we invited you! You’re family, now! Now come on, and join me and Dicky at Mama’s table. Mama said he _has_ to sit with her because he missed last year. Oh, she was _so_ upset that she couldn’t make it to graduation,” she said as she led Jack to what was clearly the head table even though it was off to the side. “She was never much for travel to start with, but with all the nonsense you have to go through at security these days and with her needing a walker and so on…”

Suzanne shook her head. Jack said nothing. He said nothing and he looked over to where Bitty was sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with his grandmother, scrolling through photos on his phone and telling her all about them with broad gestures and obvious delight.

He tucked the image aside in his memory, along with Suzanne’s comments, and let Suzanne hustle him to Bitty’s side while telling Judy to move her carcass and let the boy sit with his fiancé for heaven’s sake.

It seemed only a _little_ forced, but even that little bit of effort put him on alert. He knew he was overreacting, but for some reason he had been feeling unmoored ever since was shooed inside to recover from the heat.

Fortunately, Suzanne’s smile and the way she relaxed when Bitty lit up to see them did a lot to settle his mind.

“Hey, sweetpea!” Bitty half-stood to greet him with a quick kiss on the cheek. Aside from one startled look-then-look-away from one of Bitty’s great-aunts, no one seemed to notice, even when Bitty leaned in to whisper:

“Once we finish dinner, we’ll grab dessert and head out to watch the fireworks.” He leaned in closer, lips brushing against Jack’s ear. “Or maybe _not_ watch them—just like two years ago.”

Jack was suddenly glad for the mild sunburn he’d gotten earlier in the day. With any luck it would be enough to hide the blush.

Jack didn’t speak much over dinner, mostly because he was busy eating. The food was excellent and there was enough and more than enough for everyone. He was also quiet because he was busy taking in everything around him. People moved from table to table with their plates, catching up with whoever they wanted to catch up with. Bitty laughed and joked with his grandmother and his Aunt Judy, and fussed over his cousins’ babies when they were brought over to see their great-grandmother. When it was time for him and Jack to head off to watch the fireworks, Jack could see that part of him was reluctant to leave.

On their way out, instead of hitting the dessert table, Bitty ducked inside the house and came out with a foil-covered plate and a small cooler. “I kept aside some of the _good_ stuff for us so that plague of locusts out there couldn’t get to it before we did.”

“Good planning, bud.”

They drove out to Judy’s farm, and there was just enough light for Jack to enjoy watching his fiancé skillfully guiding the pickup down the twisty gravel driveway to the hillside by the old barn. Jack could also see that the grounds around the barn had been cleared of brush and weeds, and some new boards stood out bright and golden in the sunset light.

Once they were parked, they got settled in the bed of the truck much as they had two years ago.

The big difference was, this time everyone back at the Bittle household knew that he and Bitty were together. Or ‘involved,’ as Suzanne would say.

“What’s so funny, Mister Zimmermann?”

“Just thinking about how nice it is not to have to hide while we’re here.”

Bitty went quiet for a moment. A brass band was just barely audible off in the distance. “It’s strange, that’s for sure.”

“I thought everyone back at your place seemed okay about us.”

“ _Almost_ everyone,” Bitty pointed out. He chuckled when Jack bristled in outrage. “Hon, you only didn’t notice the ones who weren’t okay because you’re still learning how to speak Southern. Oh, don’t give me that look! It was only three people and they’re no one I’d pay any mind to anyways. Worrying about what Great Aunt Lorene thinks would be like, oh, I don’t know—like worrying about what side Nepal was on in World War Two.”

Jack was speaking before he could stop himself. “Actually, Nepal was—”

Bitty pressed his fingers to Jack’s mouth. “Mister Zimmermann, do _not_. This is going to be a romantic evening, not a lecture on obscure military history. Now, are we going to snuggle or wha— _eep!_ ”

Jack loved that Bitty was small enough to just be able to haul onto his lap on a whim. He smirked. “Better?”

“ _Much_.”

The first firework sputtered into the sky and bloomed into a small silvery flower. It wasn’t so much part of the show as it was a signal to pay attention.

“All kinds of things are better,” Bitty said quietly. “It still doesn’t seem real. Kinda like two years ago it didn’t seem real that I was making out under the fireworks with the guy I used to think I would never have a chance with.”

A trio of fireworks—red, white, and blue—unfurled in overlapping circles, the _booms_ hitting less than a second later. Jack felt more than heard Bitty sigh.

“Last year was the first year I ever missed spending the Fourth with my family,” Bitty said. He shook his head, and his hair tickled Jack’s nose. “For a while there, I was kind of thinking I might not have another one, ever.”

“But you’re here now. And so am I.”

“Mmm.” Bitty’s hum of agreement sounded more distracted than Jack would have expected. Truth be told, he was also a little disappointed not to get a kiss or at least a smile in response to his insight. “And we’re gonna be getting married. For the longest time, I wondered if that would ever be possible for me. I can’t tell you how many family weddings I helped bake and cook for over the years, or how many times I got roped into being ring bearer when I was in single digits.”

“Please tell me there are pictures.” Wee Bitty was ridiculously photogenic to begin with, and the idea him dressed up in a tiny suit was almost too much to bear. No wonder he’d been pressed into service multiple times.

“I shall tell you no such thing! Me having to wear a little seersucker suit is not the important thing here.”

Jack would have protested that seersucker was _very_ important, but a shift in Bitty’s mood prompted him to _listen._

“The important thing is that I remember all the fun and fuss that led up to the wedding—all the cooking, all the flowers, all the _colors_ , how pretty the church was, or sometimes it was flowers and paper lanterns out in the back yard, which was even better. And then there was the _cake_. There’d be at least two flavors, with three, maybe even four of the family bakers baking off different tiers and making the fillings. The decorating…” Bitty winced and shrugged. “It isn’t _bad_ , and we have mastered the art of making buttercream that will behave itself on a summer day, but let’s just say the Phelps have always been fashionably ahead of the curve when it came to the rustic wedding trend.”

Jack laughed. “I like cakes that look like something you can actually eat.” He remembered one wedding his parents had dragged him to. It was nearly two decades ago, but he still felt the sense of betrayal when he bit into a slab of fondant like it was only yesterday. “And that you _can_ actually eat.”

Bitty rewarded him with a peck on the cheek. “That’s the right answer, sweetheart. You’ll fit in just fine here.” His mood shifted back to something more pensive. “It was like the Fourth of July, but better. Everything was fancier and finer, and there was dancing and beautiful flowers…”

Jack knew from the quality of the silence that Bitty was blinking back tears.

“It was so lovely and everyone was so happy and all the family was there, and even back then, even when I was five years old and stuck in that god-damned seersucker suit, I knew that it…” He paused long enough to take a deep breath that did little to calm him. “I knew it wasn’t for someone like me.”

Jack didn’t know what to say, so offering a paper napkin so Bitty could wipe his eyes and nose would have to suffice.

“I didn’t know why, even back before I knew what ‘gay’ meant, but I _knew_ I could never, ever have it. It was… well, it was just the way it was, and that was that. And I told myself I was okay with that.”

“Were you?”

Bitty shook his head. The light from the fireworks glinted off the tears running down his cheek. “You know what’s funny? Two years ago, when we finally got marriage equality, I did the whole Twitter thing with the rainbow profile pic and ‘love wins’ and everything, but it kind of felt like something I _had_ to do, you know? And everyone—well everyone not _here_ —kept asking me about how excited I must have been.”

A few pieces came together for Jack. “You were _here_ when Obergefell happened.”

“Yeah. I should have been over the moon about it and I wanted to be and I pretended to be online, but I wasn’t and I didn’t know _why_ I wasn’t, and there was no one to talk to about it anyways. I sure as heck wasn’t going to bring it up with Mama.”

“Hey! I was here only few weeks afterwards!” Jack grinned when Bitty growled in response.

“Oh, _please_. We’d kissed and we’d been Skyping, and I was already head over heels in love with you, but it was way too soon for us to be talking about _marriage_ stuff! We hadn’t even defined the relationship yet!”

“Euh, I was already thinking of you as my boyfriend. Not that I was going to ask you. Right then, I mean. I already had plans to. Um, ask. Even back then,” Jack admitted. He elected not to mention how even then he was thinking that Faber would be a good place to propose.

Bitty’s wobbly smile was barely visible. Or maybe Jack was just imagining it. “Jack Laurent Zimmermann, you are the most ridiculously romantic…” He finished the sentence with a kiss. Then he pulled back. “Were you serious about taking Aunt Judy up on her offer?”

His voice was soft and fragile.

“If it’s something you want, then yes. Absolutely.”

Fireworks went off one after the other after the other, the _booms_ so close together it was one long, rolling thunder. Bitty stayed silent and snuggled into his side.

“Moomaw can’t travel all that easy any more,” he said eventually, seemingly out of nowhere.

Jack remembered what Suzanne had said about Moomaw missing Bitty’s graduation.

“So you _would_ like to get married here, then.”

Bitty shook his head, jostling Jack slightly, but it didn’t feel like a denial. “I thought just having her say she’d be making my cake, just finding out that I _could_ actually have…”

Jack wasn’t sure what he should say, but Bitty wasn’t done.

“How can I have gone so long without knowing I wanted something so bad?” he cried.

Jack held him tight for as long as it took for the shaking to subside.

“Next year,” he said, as sure and certain as he had been when he had kissed Bitty at center ice. “Tell them next July, August at the latest. I don’t want to wait any longer than that. Do you think Judy and David can get the place ready that quickly?”

“Well, we’ll just have to ask, won’t we?” There was a brightness in Bitty’s voice that Jack hadn’t realized had been missing since that afternoon. “But this family can pull things together in a hurry when, say, a bride doesn’t want to be walking down the aisle with a visible baby bump, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

“I don’t think a baby bump is going to be a problem for us either,” Jack said, earning a poke to the ribs for his trouble. “We’ll talk to them tomorrow, eh?”

Maman would be pleased that they’d taken care of arranging the venue far enough in advance. That started another thought prickling in the back of his mind, but Bitty was pulling him down onto the blankets, intent on celebrating their wedding plans, and all thoughts of anything that wasn’t Bitty simply vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In general, I have elected to take an optimistic view about how Bitty's extended family might react, but there are some nuances that I'll be getting into in later chapters. 
> 
> As for Jack's over-thinking early in the chapter, one of the not-so-fun ways my anxiety manifests itself is that on a bad day, my mind will actively _look_ for things to be anxious about, and I will often have to forcibly drag it away from a fixation as if it were a dog desperate to go for a roll in something rotten and stinky.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Suzanne have a little talk.

**_Maman: <<Welcome home! What time did you get in last night?>>_ **

_Me: <<We’re still in GA>>_

**_Maman: <<What happened??? Did you miss your flight???>>_ **

_Me: <<We extended our vacation 2 days>>_

_Me : <<I’m sorry I was going to tell you>>_

_Me: <<Bits grandmother wanted to spend more time with him>>_

_Me: <<And he wants to shoot more videos with family>>_

Maman didn’t reply for a few minutes, even though the messages showed as read. That didn’t mean she was upset, he reminded himself. It was far more likely she was passing his news on to Papa the way she usually did.

He was just about to congratulate himself on fending off an irrational brain spiral when she texted back twice more in quick succession, and he was so wound up he nearly dropped the phone.

**_Maman: <<I’m so glad things are going well for you down there. Be sure to call me as soon as you’re back home!>>_ **

**_Maman: <<And don’t forget to give my contact info to Suzanne>>_ **

_Me: <<ok>>_

The flare of irritation at the reminder (which he had needed, but still…) rattled him more than it should have, and he just wanted the conversation to _end_. He hoped his off mood would right itself once Bitty reported back after talking to Moomaw. He didn’t want to ruin his or anyone else’s day by being a grump.

So, he forwarded the contact information as requested before he could forget again, texted Maman to let her know, then turned off his phone and snagged another piece of bacon.

Suzanne, still on the phone with Connie, mouthed _sorry_ at him sheepishly.

“I am _so_ sorry about that, Jack,” she said once she hung up. “Normally, I’d tell her I had company and shoo her off the phone, but she’s tried three times to get hold of me this morning already, and with things the way they are between her and Brad…” She shook her head as she trailed off and got back to tidying an already tidy kitchen, plainly too agitated to sit down just yet.

“It’s okay.” Silently, he pleaded for her not to go into the gory details of her sister’s failing marriage.

She sighed, and then she laughed. “I suppose it is. After all, you’re family now, so that doesn’t really count as ‘company,’ now does it?”

He couldn’t help smiling. His mood settled just a little. “No, it doesn’t.”

The first time he was in Madison, he and Bitty had to hide their relationship while also figuring out what their relationship was. The second time, it was the first time Bitty was openly part of a same-sex couple at a family gathering. Both times, they had to plot and plan to find time to just _relax_.

The third time, Jack was finally able to see just how much the Bittles’ place reminded him of the Haus. The kitchen carried the same reassurance in its smells and in the familiarity of how the drawers and cabinets were organized. The family room had a sense of safety that came from the seat on the couch that was now silently but officially designated as ‘his.’ The room he could now share with Bitty was so full of Bitty’s presence that it instantly felt like _home_.

At the moment, though, none of this could keep him from fretting over the outcome of Bitty’s call to Moomaw.

As eager as he and Bitty had been about the idea the night before last, yesterday brought the realization that they needed to consider other things besides the offer of a cake and a venue before getting married in Madison. Hence this morning’s call to the woman who had more sway over things in town than most actual elected officials.

It was taking a while, but then again, Bitty and Moomaw could talk for a long time once they got going. So it was probably okay.

Probably.

“I’m so glad you and Dicky could stay a little longer.” Suzanne paused in her cleaning circuit to pour him another glass of unsweetened tea. She had made a point to keep some brewed without sugar on hand for him.

Before, it made him feel welcome, but right now it made him wonder if he was missing some sort of cue. He wished Bitty would come inside already, and he also wished Suzanne would just sit down already. Her agitation was contagious.

“We’d stay longer, but I need to be back in Providence for a charity thing.” He peered outside. Bitty was no longer pacing while talking on the phone. Instead, he was leaning against the side of the garage. He looked relaxed. Maybe. Jack couldn’t read his expression.

“Well, I’m grateful for _any_ amount of extra time with Dicky, especially now things have settled down after the holiday. I—” She stopped right in the middle of wiping down the counter and did not lift her gaze. “I was so scared for a while that he’d never come back home again, _ever_.”

Jack nodded. An angry inner voice said _well,_ _maybe you should have let him know sooner that he would be welcome_ , _or maybe you should ask yourself why he felt like he had to keep so much of himself hidden from you for so long._

The voice sounded a lot like Shitty.

“I’m glad you two worked it out,” is what he ended up saying, figuring that Bitty would not appreciate coming back inside to tension and hurt feelings. “I know _he_ was scared he wouldn’t be welcome back.”

Bitty had been so wrung out and exhausted back then, and it was hard not to feel bad for Suzanne if she’d felt anything like that. On the other hand, a smaller, darker part of him felt she damned well deserved to.

Suzanne yanked her chair back from the table and finally sat down, nervous energy gone as if it had never been there. The bitter sound she let out was closer to a sob than a laugh. “I’m his mama. If he thought for even a moment that I would _ever_ stop loving him, then that’s on me, not him. All this past year, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about all the things I might’ve said or done that made Dicky think for even a _second_ we would would kick him out for being gay.”

Jack really, really wished it was Bitty having this conversation with Suzanne and not him. He also wished he didn’t notice that it took Suzanne deliberate effort to say the word ‘gay.’

“Euh, have you talked to him about it?”

She shrugged and scoffed. She also failed to take the hint. “Oh, we talked some, back at Christmas, but it wasn’t enough. There wasn’t enough time. It…”

Suzanne’s face spasmed with pain and Jack wished he could rewind the past few seconds.

“I wish I had known to say that it didn’t matter if what those horrible boys said was true.” She paused, and she said nothing about what she _had_ said back then. “Truth is, it _did_ matter, at least it did back then, no matter how much I wish I could say it didn’t. I wish more than anything I could go back and tell myself just how much it didn’t matter, and then maybe I would have been brave enough to say the right things. Dicky must have _known_ it mattered to me, he must have…”

She caught herself before she could get too wound up. She took a deep breath and reached across the table to rest her hand on Jack’s. The size difference was enough to bring out a twitch of a smile.

“So no, Jack, I am not going to be all greedy and ungrateful that I’m ‘only’ getting two more days with my son. Instead, I’m going to be greedy and ungrateful that _you_ got to guest-star in one of his videos before I did! Oh, don’t look at me like that! I’m just teasing.”

“Yes. Of course. Ha ha.”

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Truth is, I’m grateful to be in one of his videos _at all_. And I’m also grateful for you, Jack. I know you and Dicky got off to a rough start—the way he talked about you that first year, anyone would’ve thought he would happily set you on fire, given the chance—but you’ve been good for him.”

“He’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” Jack blurted out.

Suzanne beamed proudly, but her eyes were also misting up. “I think he might say the same thing about you. I’m just so glad to see him so _happy_.”

The sudden, vivid memory of similar words in Maman’s voice knocked him out of the present moment enough that he missed the first part of what Suzanne said next.

“…started thinking about wedding plans yet? I’m assuming Dicky told you about the tradition with the cake?”

Fortunately for Jack, he didn’t have a chance to do more than stammer through a couple of false starts at the change in topic before the clatter of the screen door saved the day.

Bitty came into the kitchen, all barely restrained energy and a poker face that did a horrible job at hiding the smile that was trying to get out. He gave Suzanne a quick one-armed hug that she clearly wished had been a bit more, then greeted Jack with a kiss on the cheek as he sat down next to him and nuzzled in to whisper:

“It’s good. It’s more than good. I’ll tell you more about what Moomaw said later, but I called Aunt Judy right after her, and it’s a go!”

Jack was nearly loopy with relief. “Do you want to say something now, or…?”

Bitty pondered this. “Part of me thinks we should wait until Coach gets back, but I’m also about ready to burst!

“What are you two whispering about?” Suzanne gave them a mind-your-manners raised eyebrow that reminded Jack of Maman’s _mmm-hmm?_

“Wedding plans,” Jack said. Bitty seemed taken aback at Jack bringing it up so bluntly, so Jack continued. “Your mom and I were talking. I think now is good.”

“Are you sure?” Bitty sounded more eager than doubtful.

Jack nodded even as Suzanne said, “Now is good for what?”

Bitty grasped Jack’s hand under the table, squeezing almost to the point of pain. “Jack and I were talking it over last night and this morning, and while we still need to pick an exact date—we’re thinking late July or early August so we don’t run into the Fourth on one end or training camp on the other, and if the Falconers get into the playoffs again, we won’t be able to do June.”

Suzanne’s eyes were wide. “Wait… do you mean July as in _next summer?_ ” When Jack and Bitty nodded, she sighed. “Sweetheart, you know we can pull a wedding together in a hurry when we have to, but even so, one year is going to go so much faster than you could possibly imagine! I don’t mean to nag, but the first thing you boys will want to do is see if the places you’re looking at for the wedding are even available when you want them and get something locked in as soon as possible.”

“Oh, we’ve got that all taken care of,” Bitty said smugly.His hand trembled in Jack’s, but it was with excitement, not fear. “We’ll have to decide on a firm date by the end of the month, but given we know the owner of the place we want to get married, it’s all good.”

“Oh? Well, how nice is that!” Suzanne smiled brightly, but Jack knew enough Southern to know that she was masking some kind of less-than-pleasant emotion. “I suppose your parents must know some people with some _very_ nice places, Jack. That’s certainly lucky for the two of you. Now, you’re not going to get married up in Canada, or are you?”

“No, Mama,” Bitty laughed. “No one is going to have to fly internationally, especially not Moomaw.”

Well, Jack’s parents and a couple of his hockey uncles might, but it wasn’t worth getting into that. Besides, he was having too much fun watching Bitty being a little shit and he didn’t want to derail that.

“Also, Jack’s folks aren’t the only ones who know people with some _very_ nice places to hold a wedding.”

Bitty was full-on grinning now, and Suzanne’s eyes narrowed as she figured out she was being played.

“So are you going to tell me who the owner of this very nice place is and where the heck it is, or are you two smart-alecks going to keep on having fun at the expense of my already fragile nerves?”

Bitty settled back with the expression of a man who was about to launch into a long and round-about story. His mother gave him a _don’t you dare, young man_ glower, and he couldn’t hold back his grin any longer.

“Mama, Jack and I talked it over last night, and we’re taking Aunt Judy up on her offer of using her and Uncle David’s place for our wedding.” Bitty was both smiling and teary-eyed. “We’re gonna get married right here in Madison.”

First, Suzanne’s expression went slack, and then her hands flew to her mouth to hold in a noise that was both joyful and sad at once. Next thing Jack knew, she nearly knocked her chair over in her rush to come around to the other side of the table. Bitty met her halfway, and Suzanne flung her arms hard around him, clinging tight as he held on to her gently. Bitty whispered something to her while she had her face pressed against his shoulder, and she nodded. She let go of him just enough so she could rise up on tip-toe and kiss his forehead.

“Oh, my sweet baby.” She reached up to cup his cheek in her hand, and swept away a tear with her thumb. “You have no idea how happy…”

She cut herself short, probably because if she didn’t, she might burst into tears again.

“I think we have some clue,” Jack said wryly. “We didn’t think about it until Judy offered, and then I saw how much it meant to Bits.”

Suzanne gave Bitty a quizzical look. He nodded. She sat down hard, resting the fingers of one hand against her mouth, and the other hand on her chest.

“I don’t know what to say, boys. I really don’t. This is… I didn’t imagine, I didn’t dare allow myself to even _think_ it might be possible you’d want to get married at home, and oh, I was so ready to _smack_ Judy when she made you that offer yesterday! I mean, how dare she make me want something I thought I could never have!?”

Bitty made a soft, disgruntled noise that sounded like a hundred sharp comments being bitten back at once.

“Well, that’s all water under the bridge,” he said with a brittle brightness suggesting that at least some portion of said water was still ice. He sat back down. “The important thing is that we _finally_ got it figured out.”

“Euh, we do have one big favor to ask of you, Suzanne,” Jack said.

“If it’s anything to do with food or catering, it’s not a favor, it would be my pleasure.”

“We’ll have to have ourself a nice, long talk about food later, Mama, and I am _so_ looking forward to that I can’t even begin to tell you!” Bitty took a deep breath. “This is something different and not nearly so fun.”

Bitty didn’t have to say anything else. Jack picked up the conversational puck like it was one of the no-look passes that made them such a formidable duo on the ice.

“We need you to manage the guest list on your family’s side of things. Part of it will mean keeping strict control of who knows what and when. Bits and I haven’t even started talking about who we’re going to invite or how many, but it’s safe to say that my parents will be coming.”

Suzanne nodded, not thinking much of it… until she did. Her face went an interesting shade of pale.

“Oh, my Lord! Bad Bob Zimmermann and Alicia Lyons are going to be _here_ … I need to start cleaning, _now_. And Connie! Oh, my _Lord!_ We’ll be scraping her off the ceiling when she hears!” She laughed, but the amusement lasted only a second. She clutched the edge of the table. Shocky-pale turned to sickly-pale as she no doubt thought back to all of those ‘people with very nice places’ who were close friends of the Zimmermanns and might be on the guest list.

It was the look of a woman who was wondering if burning down the house and starting fresh might be easier than giving it the kind of cleaning she thought would be suitable for that sort of company.

“So if Aunt Connie or anyone else starts pressing you for the ‘inside scoop’ on who’s coming from Jack’s side of things, we need you to shut them down. The one thing we _do_ know for sure we want for our wedding is for there not to be any reporters or photographers snooping around.”

“I can do that,” Suzanne said quietly, clearly still processing.

“That’s not all, Mama.” Bitty shook his head as Jack silently asked if he should take this part of the conversation. “Moomaw says she doesn’t think anyone in town will give the family any trouble about the wedding, but we’re gonna need you and her to tell us who on our side of things we should and shouldn’t invite.”

Last night, Bitty had been positive that they wouldn’t need to explain _why_ they needed help with this. Jack wasn’t so sure. After all, a concept like _being okay attending a family cookout with us isn’t the same as being okay going to our wedding, and we don’t want to find out the hard way we got it horribly wrong about someone we care about, but we also don’t want to start any feuds by snubbing the wrong people by mistake_ seemed like it would need some discussion.

Of course, he hadn’t grown up in the South. Suzanne got what Bitty wasn’t saying right away.

“It’s the least I can do for you boys.” She blinked away a sudden brightness in her eyes so quickly Jack half-thought he’d imagined it. “After everything I _didn’t_ do for you before, thank you for letting me do this.”

“I love you, Mama.”

“I love you, too, Dicky. Never, _ever_ doubt that, not even for a second.”

Bitty was now openly wiping away tears. “I won’t, Mama.”

By silent agreement, none of them spoke of just how recently he _had_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Jack and Bitty return to Providence and things start to get complicated.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay in getting this chapter up. The conversation in this chapter and its fallout were trickier to pull together than I had anticipated.
> 
> The anxiety tag starts coming into play in this chapter.

**_Maman: <<I just saw that your flight finally took off!>>_ **

**_Maman: <<_**😱😱😱 ** _> >_**

**_Maman: <<We’ll talk tomorrow AFTER you get a good night sleep>>_ **

**_Maman: <<I sent you some links via email >>_ **

**_Maman: <<But don’t worry about reading them right away>>_ **

**_Maman: <<We can look at them together when we talk>>_ **

**_Maman: <<Sleep well my little one _**😘 ** _> >_**

* * *

They didn’t get back to the condo until one in the morning. The original plan was to unpack just enough to toss the dirty clothes into the hamper, take a shower, and order in a late dinner of Thai or Indian. This would be followed by having sex and being as loud as they damn well pleased because their condo was sound-proofed in a way the Bittles’ upstairs wasn’t.

Unfortunately, this was based on the assumption that their flight would be getting in a little after seven instead of a little before midnight. As for the wait at baggage claim, the less said about that, the better.

So, they dropped their bags in the hallway, didn’t so much shower as sluice off the worst of the travel crud, and staggered into bed. If anything else of note happened, Jack was too exhausted to register it.

He woke up just before sunrise, judging from the light. Well, if he was up early, he might as well get up and go for a run.

In a minute.

Or two.

When he opened his eyes again, it was fully daylight. A quick glance at his phone said it was ten-thirty. Bitty’s side of the bed was empty, but a trace of warmth remained. Music drifted through the open bedroom door.

Jack followed the music to the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway for a moment, watching the man he loved swaying his hips and singing to Beyoncé as he made pancakes and turkey sausage. Other than turning to give Jack a smile and a wink in greeting, Bitty didn’t miss a beat of the song.

Once, he and Bitty had talked about having a long engagement. There was nothing keeping them from starting their lives together as soon as Bitty graduated, so the official getting married part didn’t feel all that urgent.

Now, a full year seemed far too long to wait.

As soon as Bitty turned off the stove, Jack came up behind him and wrapped him up in a hug. He still wasn’t awake enough to properly say ‘good morning’ so he settled for nuzzling the side of Bitty’s neck instead.

“Well, hello there, Monsieur Sleepy-head! I had a feeling you’d be getting up right around now.”

“Why’s that?” Jack murmured into Bitty’s neck.

Bitty squirmed in a way that hinted at a vivid blush. “It’s silly, but I noticed a while back that your breathing changes and you kind of shift around a little bit about fifteen minutes before you wake up from your naps. Not that you were _napping_ just now, but still…”

It was easier just to hold on to Bitty for a little while longer than to try to put words to what was in his heart and how it felt to be _known_ , even in these small things.

“Mmm. Much as I’d love to keep on like this, sweetpea, our breakfast is getting cold.”

Jack let go, but still kept a hand on the small of Bitty’s back as he got the pancakes and sausage plated up. “I wish we could go back to bed after this.”

Unfortunately, he would have to start getting ready to leave in just an hour.

Bitty set the plates down at the breakfast bar. “Well, look at it this way. We’ve got almost a whole week to ourselves with nothing we _have_ to do other than that thing at Hasbro you have this afternoon.”

Jack had a mental jolt, a sense of missing the last step on a staircase. He dismissed it as one of those things his anxiety did to him sometimes: an instinctive drive to look for a threat that would latch onto any available target if he let it.

“Mm. And that’ll be over by four.” The idea of having no other plans should have appealed, but he couldn’t _quite_ get rid of the nagging feeling that he was missing something, that he had to stay alert, that he’d done something _wrong_.

Oh, well. It would pass, probably once the Children’s Hospital visit was behind him. Yeah, that was probably it. Hospitals weren’t exactly his favorite places, even when he knew he would be in and out after just a few hours.

“Can we just ignore our phones for a week?” Bitty pleaded. “Pretend we’re super busy? You know there are certain people who if they find out we’re in town and don’t have any plans to speak of, will absolutely come crashing in here like the adorable cock-blocking nuisances they are.”

Jack laughed. “Are you talking about Shitty or Tater?”

“Yes.”

They ate in contented quiet for a bit after that, making up for the dinner they’d missed last night.

“Speaking of Shitty and Tater,” Bitty said once they had slowed down enough to speak, “how on earth are you going to decide which of them you’ll ask to be best man?”

Jack shrugged. It was a fair question, given he’d seen far more of Tater than Shitty over the past two years. Fair, but easy.

“Nothing to decide,” he said between bites. “Shitty called dibs on best man right after we told the gang we were dating.”

Shitty’s proclamation had been issued from deep within the leaf pile where Jack had just tossed him. He would have picked Shitty anyway, but it was nice having it already settled.

Bitty stabbed his fork at his last few bites of pancake. “I still don’t know if I want to ask Lardo or Chowder, and who else I might have as attendants besides. The one thing I _do_ know is that I’m going to have to put my foot down hard and early about only having a specific number of groomspeople, or Mama will start dropping hints about which cousins I should ask in the name of family diplomacy, and that’ll become a can of worms _real_ fast.”

“Good point. Maybe we should just stick to one apiece? If I asked Tater, I’d have to ask Snowy, and then if I didn’t ask Marty and Thirdy, it would be weird because they’re my alternates.” He shook his head and sighed. “To make a long story short, that’s how Papa ended up with _fourteen_ groomsmen when he and Maman got married.”

“Fourteen?” Bitty pondered this, then brushed it aside. Jack wished he could tell if Bitty was impressed or appalled. “Was he still with the Habs, or…?”

“It was a year after he was traded, so it was half Pens, half Habs. Papa says they nearly ended up with a line brawl at the rehearsal dinner.”

“Hmm. That sounds about par for the course,” Bitty said, glibly hinting at a number of family stories Jack had yet to hear. “Let me think on it for a bit. Worse comes to worst, there’s no rule saying that we each _have_ to have the same number of groomspeople, right? Now what are you starin’ at me like that for?”

Jack knew he was opening and closing his mouth like a fish that had just been yanked out of its pond.

“Sweetpea?”

“I…” He floundered a bit more, trying to think about how to say what he wanted to say without shoving both feet down his own throat. “It’s just that at Hausgiving, you were always so, um, _particular_ about everything. I mean, you were all put out last year because you couldn’t find the right size marshmallows for the sweet potatoes and Tango bought the wrong kind of foil roasting pan and the store was out of the brand of yeast you like and… Um. Well.”

Bitty shook his head slowly, laughing under his breath. “But that’s _Thanksgiving_ ,” he said as if that explained everything. “Weddings… Well, I’ve gone more family weddings than I can count, and the one thing they all had in common is that something went wrong at every single one of them. It’s gotten to the point where people get nervous if things are going _too_ smoothly.”

Jack thought this over, sized it up against some of odder superstitions he’d seen over the years, and found it make sense. “So, it’s like bad luck if they don’t happen?”

Bitty beamed in delight. “Yes!” He smacked the counter to emphasize the point. “It’s the little things that go wrong—like my cousin Becca-Lynn tossing her bouquet so it hit the ceiling fan in the church reception hall and shot across the room and took out the entire shrimp platter—well, it’s sort of like how a kegster isn’t really a kegster without Nursey making a damn fool of himself or Holster belting out show tunes, y’know? Besides, if the couple can just laugh it all off, you know they’ve got what it takes to make it for the long haul.”

Jack still couldn’t find the right words, but this time it was because he was so tangled up in how much he loved Bitty that words were inadequate. But then, Bitty’s expression became much more calculating.

“Also, I found out from Chowder—that boy crumples like a wet tissue if you so much as look at him sideways—that our dear friends, the very same dear friends who placed bets on when you and I would fess up to dating, have _also_ placed bets on whether you or I will be the first one to turn into a complete Groomzilla, and I’m not about to give them the damn satisfaction.”

Jack blinked. “Why would they assume I would be a Groomzilla? That’s a horrible word, by the way.”

Bitty turned and leveled a _look_ at him and then, to Jack’s horror, began ticking off items on his fingers. “You rented out all of Jerry’s for an _entire day_ so we could tell our friends we were dating. You sent _fifteen_ dozen roses to the Haus to match my number, which was wonderful and romantic and I wouldn’t change a thing about it, but it was just a _little_ bit over the top if we’re both being honest. You also moved our morning practice and caused a cascade effect that disrupted the entire Faber schedule so that you and I could take Professor Atley’s class that first semester. Which, in retrospect, should have clued both of us in to the truth of things way sooner.”

Jack gave a strained grin. “Euh, you’re worth it?”

Bitty blushed and gazed adoringly at Jack in a way that sorely tempted him to sweep him off to the bedroom right then and there, hospital visit be damned.

But Bitty was not done chirping him.

“To pick a far less romantic example, let’s not forget the fact that you are at _least_ fifty percent of the reason why a prohibition against board games was added to the team bylaws.”

“Holster was the one who threw the game board, not me! It’s not my fault I was was able to come up with a strategy that fell completely within the rules!”

“That’s not how he tells it, hon,” Bitty sassed. His eyes were glittering with mirth. “Shall I continue, Mr. ‘110%’ Zimmermann?”

Jack fake-cringed and raised his hands as if warding a blow. “Mercy! I give up!” he laughed. “Spare me the rest!”

And there was a _lot_ of rest to be gone through. The thought slipped in before he could stop it, bringing along dozens of memories.

“Jack? What’s the matter, sweetpea?”

Jack wrapped his hands around his mug, letting the warmth ground him. “I think the me you first knew would have been a Groomzilla.” Back then, even the slightest deviation from the plan he had charted for himself after rehab brought out the worst in him. And that was _after_ two years of friendship with Shitty had smoothed out the roughest edges.

Bitty sighed, as much exasperated as fond. “Jack, you’ve apologized for all that and _more_ than apologized.” Jack startled more than he should have as Bitty reached over and squeezed his thigh. “I get why you were the way you were back then, but I’ve seen how you changed. Except for the board game thing, the examples I gave all show that you’re not just extra, you’re one of the sweetest, most thoughtful people I know. You wouldn’t have pitched a fit if you could ‘only’ get five dozen roses, right? Now let’s forget all of that and just agree that we’re both going to act like the most important thing about our wedding is that at the end of the day, we’ll be married. _Not_ whether or not the table linens are the right shade of blue or if the flowers are perfectly fresh.”

“So, no Groomzillas?” There was something both freeing and frightening about the idea that his wedding didn’t have to be perfect in every detail. (And why did the idea of the flowers not being fresh turn his stomach? They just decided it shouldn’t matter, right?)

“No Groomzillas,” Bitty declared. “So, if you’re okay with it, I’ll tell Chowder to put his money _and_ mine on ‘neither’ and we can split the pot.”

“Huh?”

Bitty’s smile was terrifying. “I want Rans and Holster to lose this so badly that they’ll each have to mortgage a kidney. I’ll spare you the details on who bet how much on me and who bet how much on you. The point is, those boys are going to _pay_.”

He was about to say something else, but he got a text. He frowned at it, then looked back up at Jack. “It’s Tater. He wants to know if you’re still planning at meeting at Hasbro or if you want to carpool.”

“Why is he texting you instead of me?”

“That boy’s thought processes are one of the great mysteries of the universe. What should I tell him?”

While it would be fun to catch up with Tater, Jack didn’t want to risk the kind of detours and side trips that carpooling with him usually led to. One time, they had ended up in New Haven for some reason involving pizza.

“I’ll meet him there.”

Bitty sent off two texts in response. “That’s that taken care of. I also told him we have plans for an early dinner, so he’s not to try to drag you off somewhere ‘fun’ afterwards.”

“We have dinner plans?”

Again, Bitty reached over and squeezed his thigh. This time it turned into a caress and drifted noticeably up and in as he smirked wickedly. “Yes. Consumption, followed by digestion, followed by fooling around. Maybe even some wedding planning if we’re in the mood.”

“You’re really looking forward to that, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Fooling around is one of my favorite things.” Bitty’s evil smirk faded into something much softer. “But yes, I am very much looking forward to planning our wedding. Any thoughts as to whether you want to go big or small? I’m good either way, just so you know.”

Jack tried to remember the main part of Judy and David’s barn, comparing it the size of a hockey rink to get a better sense of the dimension, and then picturing how many tables might fit. When that didn’t work, he tried to remember some of the events his parents had hosted, and all the linen and flower topped tables arrayed in pristine perfection as far as the eye could see.

Before he knew what was happening, he felt space closing in around him as he tried to thread his way through a maze of perfect tables, trying to get _out_ and away from the noise before anyone stopped him to make small talk and he would have to remember to be _polite_.

“Euh…”

“If it helps, Judy says the most the barn will hold is two-fifty. That should be plenty big enough and then some, hm?”

“Maman and Papa had five hundred guests at their wedding,” he blurted out.

Bitty blinked, a forkful of sausage halfway to his mouth. “That’s…certainly a number.”

“Uncle Wayne and Aunt Janet had _seven_ hundred.”

“Jesus H. Christ!” Bitty’s fork clattered to the floor as he doubled over in laughter.“Do we even _know_ seven hundred people? Let me reframe the question: how many people do you _want_ at our wedding?”

Want? Jack struggled with the idea more than he should have.

“Euh… we should probably start with who we _have_ to invite?”

He remembered all too well the agonies Maman and her assistant went through when planning Papa’s sixtieth birthday party at the same time they were also planning the annual holiday party.

There were all his teammates from Samwell and Providence, plus coaches and support staff, plus all the plus-ones… That already put them well over a hundred right there, not counting for the fact that even with Suzanne curating the list, Bitty’s family wasn’t exactly small. Also, Bitty had his own friends from Samwell from after Jack’s time there, and with the cookbook coming out next year, he’d probably need to invite his agent and editor. Jack would have to invite his own agent, of course, and then there were the board members of the Zimmermann Foundation and anyone else his parents would insist on inviting…

_Marde_. _Three_ hundred fifty might not be enough.

“I can _see_ those gears of yours grinding,” Bitty teased after Jack had been silent for too long. “If we’re talking about who we _have_ to invite, the bare minimum per Georgia law is two people other than the officiant to serve as witnesses. Everything else is negotiable. Well, _theoretically_ negotiable. I mean, there’s no way we’re not inviting your folks or Mama and Coach and so on. I’d imagine that our short lists past that are gonna be pretty much the same.”

“But what about our parents’ lists?”

Bitty went quiet for a moment. Then he sighed and took Jack’s hand in his.

“We can worry about those after we figure out who _we_ want to invite, okay? And maybe now isn’t the best time to talk about it?” He ran his thumb in soothing arcs across Jack’s knuckles. Then he lifted their joined hands together for a sweet, lingering kiss. “I’m sorry you’re having a rough morning, sweetpea. Is it the hospital visit?”

“Probably? Maybe?” He didn’t want to admit that talking about the wedding made him anxious. It was probably just because sleeping so late left him feeling unmoored. Yeah, that was it. “I’ll be fine.”

“If you want, I can drive—” Bitty frowned when his phone rang. The frown deepened when he checked to see who it was. “Sweetpea, did you turn your phone off last night?”

“I…” He couldn’t remember. No, wait. He had checked the time. His phone was over on the far end of the counter, so he would have heard it if it rang.

“It’s your mother.” Bitty flicked his hand sharply towards Jack’s phone as he answered his own phone before it could go to voice mail. “Alicia?” His voice was bright and cheery, but his brows were drawn together. “Yes, yes, he’s awake, and no you’re not calling too early… Oh, the flight delay was _horrible_! Yes! And then it took us an hour to get our bags, so we didn’t get home until…”

Jack picked up his phone and Bitty’s voice faded into the background, drowned out by the pounding in Jack’s ears. His phone was on, but there were no notifications.

He checked to see if there was a problem with the signal.

“Oh! That’s Mama calling. Do you mind if I… _thank you_. Yes, I’ll have him call you right back! Love you, too!”

Instead of signal bars or a WiFi indicator, there was a little airplane icon in the upper left of his screen. He remembered turning it on when their flight left Hartsfield.

He could not remember turning it back off. Bitty had been the one to order an Uber.

“Mama? Sorry about that. I was just on the phone with Alicia… What? You did? She… oh, no! No, I don’t know, I guess Jack didn’t have a chance to talk with her yet, yesterday was such a mess. She… she wasn’t upset or anything, was she? Oh, dear…”

Bitty shot him panicked, questioning looks as he nodded and _mmm-hmm’d_ along to whatever Suzanne was saying.

Jack didn’t know what to say. His hands shook so badly he fumbled the phone twice as he tried to get it out of airplane mode.

The phone locked onto a signal right away, and his screen flooded with text notifications. There were three from Tater and more than he could count from Maman.

The last one simply said:

**_I just got off the phone with Suzanne. Call me ASAP!!!_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, kudos and comments make my day!


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